Page 37 of You Only Love Twice
And she couldn't help thinking about the past.
Her feelings... had been real, had they not? But how could her love have existed when he'd been a virtual stranger? She knew nothing about him, nor he her. Only a bunch of carefully concocted lies the pair of them wove as they danced about each other.
It made a mockery of what they'd shared.
I loved a man who didn't exist.
"Don't be too curious." He withdrew the flask as she reached for it, and Gemma's eyes narrowed.
Slowly, he let her take it.
"Drink," he commanded abruptly. "Then turn around and place your hands behind you."
Gemma unscrewed the flask with greedy hands, tipping it to her lips. She preferred to take her blood in her cup of hot tea, or laced into her wine, but beggars couldn't be choosers. The second it hit her throat, the hunger exploded through her, flaming through her veins like a fuse racing toward a stick of dynamite. Fatigue sloughed away from her, and the constant bone-deep chill vanished.
She gulped down half the flask before she realized he was watching her.
"You've been starving me," she pointed out, patting the blood from her lips. "This is hardly the situation for etiquette."
One did not gulp one's blood as if one was an animal. It was meant to be sipped and savored, to prove you had complete control over the violence of your hunger. Especially when one was a woman and prone to "hysterics" and hence had more to prove when it came to controlling oneself.
But right then, she didn’t care.
"Are you done?" he murmured, holding out a thin rope.
And Gemma remembered the other part of his request. She lowered the flask, then set if on the floor and slowly turned around, forcing her wrists together. She needed to gain his trust.
She wasn’t sure if he had hers.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere you requested," Obsidian said softly, tugging the ropes around her wrists tight.
* * *
"Is that...."Gemma's jaw dropped as Obsidian pushed her through the door into a tiled room. "A bath."
Steam curled off the elegant bath in the center of the wash chamber. Bubbles popped on the surface, and though the room held the chill of autumn, the scent of lavender filled the damp air. A single candle burned on the vanity.
"I was forced to fix the boiler," he said, "but the tap still works."
He'd done more than merely fix the boiler. The room was swept clean, though dust was piled in the corner. From the state of the rest of the dying manor, she suspected he'd cleaned the bath too.
"Thank you." Gemma glanced at him from beneath her lashes. "You found soap."
"As requested." A blank, blank face. "There is also a clean gown and undergarments on the vanity, though the sizing may not be quite right."
What was going on here? She didn't think it a kindness. No, he wanted something.
Was this the plan all along? Capture her, soften her, then... learn something from her? She still didn't know why he'd taken her.
Or....
"Are you planning on watching?"
Hard hands spun her around, tugging the knot of the rope free. "Would you enjoy that?"
"I'm not entirely certain I've forgiven you for earlier." She realized she was staring at the bath. "Though I suspect I could work up to it."
